The Delicate Anatomy of a Crush

Emotions are the weirdest things. Since moving back to the Bay Area, I’ve started the mental checklist of boys that were once priorities. The guys that could make me smile until my cheeks started to ache. The guys that would make my heart sink if they didn’t answer a phone call or a text message. The guys that, at one point or another, were in every corner of my mind and had all of my attention.

Then, one day, I woke up and didn’t care if they called. One day, I woke up and somehow my heart didn’t beat at the sound of every text message tone. One day, I didn’t stare at my Gchat list hoping for a quick hello or an indication that I matter to them.

What’s strange about crushes is that when you’re immersed in them, you think there’s never ever going to be a time where they aren’t the only thing you think about. You lie in your bed at night hoping that, one day, they’ll claim a side of your bed and their body will make an imprint on your mattress. You think that every small thing they do is the cutest assortment of small things anyone ever does. You believe something extraordinary has happened, something so captivating that your attention has no business being anywhere else than on their lips.

And, then, it’s done. You want someone else’s body to imprint your mattress. You think that cute assortment of small things is actually pretty irritating. And you realize that your lips have business to attend to elsewhere. It happens. You move on. You can’t believe they didn’t want to marry you after your first encounter. You’re fucking awesome. They should know that by now.

And, so it happens. You get over them. You somehow move on and your attention shifts from whether they are calling or texting to what your friends are doing Friday night to maybe, at some point, what that cute new person you met at the wine bar is doing Saturday night and are they in a relationship? It’s the delicate anatomy of a crush. The fine lines between them being your only distraction to being just a quick thought in the back of your mind that makes you chuckle at how silly you acted. Sending emails hoping for their response. Grabbing their arm hoping they’d grab back. Worrying that they didn’t feel the same way. Staring at the phone hoping they’d make any sign of movement. And, most importantly, you laugh because you know it’s bound to happen again.

And, why shouldn’t it? Everything about the fantastic delicacy of a crush is something to cherish. You learn from it, you evolve, you see how to make it better next time. You get those insane butterflies that make you feel alive. You have indecent thoughts of them pushing you up against a wall. And you reject or get rejected. You learn how to take or give the news gracefully, instead of personally. And, you eventually realize that you can thank the person for teaching you something, for getting you to go somewhere, for introducing you to something you couldn’t understand before.

Because, there’s nothing like the heart-stopping, earth-shattering anatomy of a crush. There is nothing else that propels us to be a combination of insecure, confident, shy, and foolish. There is nothing else that can make a perfectly sane person turn into a crazy one.

And, so it goes. You crush. You move on. And you hope to god that one of these days you find someone who you don’t want to live without, who will stop you, and tell you they can’t live without you, too.

Or, you know, there’s always cats. And CSI marathons.